


Give Me Love

by zxrysky



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, M/M, OCs - Freeform, Until Episode 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: Philip's known since forever that he's gay. And he's experimented, like most guys do, just with other guys.And then Lukas with his gay crisis comes crashing into his life, with the triple homicides and the crazy killer, and fuck, Philip can't deal.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zxrycyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrycyan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hey, Boyfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8443687) by [zxrycyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrycyan/pseuds/zxrycyan). 



> some parts of the dialogue may be taken from my memory of the show, and it's only up till episode 3.

**1.**

It starts young.

 

Philip doesn’t have to be sixteen and post-puberty to know what he likes, or what he doesn’t like. He’s eight and he’s aware. He knows he doesn’t make friends easily, but there’s a boy in his class named Robert whose mom’s a lot like his mom and they always pair up together during pair work in class.

 

Robert’s the classic kind of boy that girls go home crying to their parents about. He’s eight and the baddest kid on the court, as bad as an eight year old can get. He runs away from class and climbs up to the roof, breaks pencils and noses and hearts. Black hair, black eyes, and something about him makes girls yearn for his attention.

 

He pulls their pigtails, keeps them coming back for more, simple as that. Robert sidles up to them, all bright eyes and cocky smiles and he screams confidence. Girls are attracted to confidence. _Boys_ are attracted to confidence. Regardless of gender, a confident kid is an attractive kid, even at age eight.

 

The boys in their class hate him because they can’t swagger they way he does, they can’t spin pencils the way he does, and that’s why all the girls love him.

 

And yeah, Philip’s not an idiot. Philip knows what attraction is. He’s seen it in his mom’s eyes, raking appreciatively over a guy in the convenience store. That kind of attraction is probably a bit too old for him, but it’s the same concept. Looking at someone and feeling something hot in your belly, something that causes fire to rush to your cheeks, something that makes you sweat under the collar and try to garner attention.

 

Robert always pairs up with him in class, no matter what they’re supposed to do. Even if they’re supposed to line up in twos, one line of girls and one line of boys, Robert finds a way to sweet-talk a girl to take his place, and he’ll end up slouching next to Philip at the back of the lines, hands stuffed in his pockets and whispering snarky comments to Philip.

 

What was that about confidence?

 

Yeah, Philip thinks to himself, throwing a smile back at Robert, tucking closer as the teacher leads them off into the wilderness on a field trip. Robert slings an arm around him, talking his ear off with inane babble and Philip takes a good long look at the line of girls standing in front of Robert, eyes their pretty nails and skirts and long hair and he thinks-

 

He’s definitely attracted to confidence, more of the male type.

 

**2.**

When he’s eleven, going on twelve, his mom sits him down and stares into his eyes.

 

“Philip,” she says slowly. “I’ve got to go somewhere for a while.”

 

Her hands shake as she says this, hair wild and frizzy, and she looks like she hasn’t showered in a while. She looks like those poster women that the school plasters over the walls, warning kids to STAY AWAY FROM DRUGS.

 

Red eyes, clenched jaw, trembling fingers that dig into his skin and Philip presses his hand over his mom’s, pats it gently and tries to get her to loosen her grip.

 

“Yeah?” He asks. “Where are you going? Am I coming with you?”

 

She blinks at him like she hadn’t even considered the idea, the thought of bringing her child to wherever she goes at night when she thinks Philip’s asleep and doesn’t know. She goes out at night, ten to eleven when the city’s alight with street lamps and dazzling signboards and she returns when it’s time for Philip to go to school. She comes back with bruises on her pale skin, a dopey smile on her face and Philip has to wait at the door, catch her and wince when she’s too heavy for him to carry, and half-drag her to her room.

 

“No,” she whispers quietly, brushing a hand through his hair. They sit together like that for a while, his mom slowly combing through the knots and tangles in his hair, and for a while he can pretend that his mom’s world still revolves around him and him only.

 

She leaves the next morning, taking nothing but a bag of overnight clothes with her even though Philip believes she’ll be gone for longer than just one night, and he sits in the living room for a while, playing with the phone cord.

 

It’s a Saturday. There’s no school, but if there was, Philip thinks that maybe he’d stay home. He doesn’t feel up for dealing with people right now. If he called his mom, he isn’t sure she’d answer.

 

He’s eleven and he can’t remember the last time his mom put him to bed, kissed him on the forehead and murmured that she loved him, like all those mothers in the stories that fill the library shelves.

 

Philip tangles the phone cord around his fingers and picks up the phone. He’s only memorised two numbers, and one of them is his mom’s.

 

The other one belongs to Robert.

 

**3.**

It solidifies at age fourteen. There are some boys in school who brag about everything and anything, and when they’re white boys on the cusp of puberty, sex is all they talk about.

 

Alex lost his virginity to a seventeen year old girl. Good for him. Philip couldn’t care less, but it’s apparently the talk of the batch. Every red blooded male, even the older ones, want advice on scoring a hot chick like that.

 

Robert yawns and tips his chair back, one hand propped against the back of Philip’s chair to stabilize himself. His eyes are half lidded, looking a little like he’s unperturbed by all the conversation going on around him, and it does give off the aura that he’s far more experienced than Alex.

 

“What,” Philip murmurs under his breath, eyebrow raising. “Have you done more than Alex, then?”

 

“Mm?” Robert hums, blinking at him. He runs a hand through his hair and Philip’s pretty sure he hears a girl sigh dreamily to her friend in a corner. “Nah. Why bother? Not like seventeen year old girls know what they’re doing anyways. Everyone’s too young to have sex.”

 

“You’re just jealous you haven’t lost your v-card,” Alex scoffs at Robert, crossing his arms across his chest. Maybe it’s the downfall of males, their terrible pride and uncontrollable libido, but Alex puffs up like a proud chicken when the boys around him laugh.

 

“Maybe she had an STD,” Philip says in what he hopes is a reprimanding tone, and the smirk on Alex’s face melts off like chocolate ice cream left on the sidewalk on a summer day. “Did you use a condom?”

 

Robert laughs meanly. “He said he didn’t, didn’t you, Alex? Better go hurry down to the hospital and check, yeah?”

 

“Fuck you,” Alex mutters, face deathly pale. The boys around him aren’t laughing anymore, and skirt around him a little, eyes wide. Maybe it’s because of the way Robert and he were raised, but Philip knows _better_ than to fool around with a girl- or rather, anyone, probably someone of the male gender.

 

“She probably doesn’t,” Philip offers gently. “You didn’t find her in a club or anything, did you?”

 

“Mizar,” Alex replies shakily. All of a sudden, he’s up and close with Robert and Philip, desperate for advice. “Outside Mizar, she just, came on, and I-”

 

“Oh,” Robert whistles under his breath, shaking his head. “You got lucky, that club’s not as sleazy as others.”

 

 _Mizar_ , Philip thinks, the one his mom used to hang out at. Probably still does, when she thinks Philip’s asleep. She even brought him there, once or twice, in the afternoon right after school when she was working there and trying to actually save up, instead of just living paycheck to paycheck right now with no concern for the future. It’s not a bad club. Not that shady.

 

“Mizar’s not bad,” Philip agrees. “Safer. But you shouldn’t try it again. Not until you’re, what, eighteen? That’s the actual age of consent.”

 

Alex and the other boys look like they very much do not care about the age of consent, and are extremely willing to partake in some underage sex with other underage participants, but at least the possibility of getting an STD from fooling around with weird unidentifiable teenagers is stuck in their mind.

 

The girls express their utter disgust at this conversation, sidling away from the group of boys gathered around Robert - and by association, Philip - and discussing loudly about how they knew that boys only thought with their libidos and not their heads.

 

“Well,” Philip says after a pause, eyes lingering on the girls. “It _was_ a girl that propositioned Alex, not the other way around.”

 

Maybe this is why Philip’s not so hot with the girls, because some of them flush bright red and throw sharp things at him, like pencils. Others shout loudly at him, but Robert laughs loudly, leans forward until his chair’s balanced on the ground and shoves Philip lightly, grinning at him.

 

He briefly entertains the thought of fooling around with Robert and thinks, yeah, _nah_. It’s a bit early. He’s seen what happens to people who try to play around with sex too early, thinking youth is fleeting and bright.

 

His mom’s a prime example.

 

**4.**

Philip thinks that he’s a little too reliant on Robert. It’s not that big of a surprise, since Philip is absolute shit at making friends, and Robert’s the most popular guy in school even if he comes from a “broken family” and drives motorbikes illegally. He probably breaks about two school rules and five national laws daily, since he’s underaged for almost everything in the world.

 

But the fact remains that Robert’s somehow carved out a place in the social hierarchy of the school for Philip, a Philip-sized hole in the school population that makes people give him weird nods in the hallway and offer him half curled up lips as acknowledgement. Without Robert, Philip knows that he’ll be going home with a black eye everyday if he talks to anyone. It happened to the new guy before, and as a batch, they’re barely fifteen.

 

Philip’s whole life in school hinges on Robert, he realises belatedly, a little dismayed, and he relates this thought to his mom.

 

His mom levels a look at him, one of her brief moments of clarity and blows out cigarette smoke. “That sucks,” she says after a long pause, blinking slowly. “So without him you’re nothing?”

 

“It doesn’t help that I like him,” Philip adds in absentmindedly. His breath stutters a bit afterwards when he realises he accidentally just- he kinda just, came out to his mom, unless his mom possesses those terribly stereotypical and heterosexual views of “bromances” and “the friendships between boys are _so close_!”

 

“It doesn’t,” his mom agrees, raising an eyebrow at him. She looks at him for a while, taking a long drag from her cigarette and tilts the pack at him.

 

Philip takes one and his mother lights it for him with a steady hand. It’s become a little ritual of a sort, something Philip does once a month, engage in some underage and very illegal smoking with his mom. A form of family bonding, the way other moms would take their kids out to the cafe for lunch, or have some heart to heart on a park bench.

 

He inhales it too fast, choking on the smoke and his eyes water as he watches the smoke escape his lips in loud coughs. His mom pats him on the back and laughs, the way she used to laugh when she brought Philip to the park at taught him how to swing.

 

“Any advice?” Philip asks, leaning his head against his mom’s shoulder. They both stare out the open window at the brown derelict apartment building opposite theirs, as shabby as theirs is. Birds scream outside, trying to find mating partners. Everyone in this world is terribly beside themselves with attempting to get lucky, Philip muses.

 

His mom tilts her head, pressing her cheek against the top of Philip’s head and he can feel her breath ruffle his hair as she sighs. She smells like cheap leather, like cigarette smoke, like unwashed clothing and it makes Philip feel a little hazy.

 

She wraps an arm around him and tugs him closer. “Don’t end up like me,” she says finally. “Get a boy who’ll treat you well.”

 

Philip scrunches up his nose. He knows what “treat you well” means, and at age fourteen with no income and itchy fingers that lift things off people in the streets, he’s fairly certain Robert won’t _treat him well_.

 

“He won’t,” he mutters mulishly, tucking closer to his mom. “All he thinks about is hanging out with his mom’s dealers in the hope that he’ll get into the business to earn some quick cash.”

 

“That’s dangerous,” his mom replies, and her voice has that lilting accent to it, like she’s at the peak of her high, dazed and delirious. He risks a look up but she’s still sane, hasn’t touched anything that can make her lose control like that, not yet, probably, since Philip knows the day has barely reached the end. “But Janet’s dealers _are_ looking for some fresh blood. You shouldn’t get involved in that. It’s not safe. Don’t go around playing with drugs.”

 

 _Pot, meet kettle,_ he thinks bitterly, but wipes the thought from his mind soon enough. He likes to think his mom actually tries, tries to give him a good life as best as she can, even if her life is falling apart. She prepares lunch for him, even if it’s some leftover takeout that she’s heated up, but she tries to maintain some sort of routine for him, tries to keep some logic in his life.

 

She also, weirdly enough, retains ample cognitive function to warn him away from things that will screw his life over, the way it did to hers.

 

“You shouldn’t either, mom,” he says quietly. Her eyes fall to his, and she looks sad, a little regretful, but her lips pull up at the corners and she hugs him close.

 

“My smart boy,” she says against his hair, pressing her lips to his head. “I’m not that deep yet. I keep trying to stop. You know I do.”

 

Yeah, Philip knows. He knows, and that’s why it hurts even more because she’s not trying hard enough.

 

**5.**

Apparently, his mom doesn’t care whatsoever that he’s gay, and one day Philip wakes up to some strange and definitely illegal magazines on his bedside table that are extremely questionable. The headlines scream about things that Philip feels he was happier not knowing, such as how gay sex works.

 

Maybe he won’t be happier not knowing that, seeing as he _is_ gay and actually has an active libido, he just doesn’t act idiotically like other boys his age, but Philip is very certain that these magazines aren’t suitable for his age. Not that other boys haven’t been bragging about having magazines of the more heterosexual leanings, like old editions of Playboy.

 

Some idiot - probably Alex, that boy’s insane - even brought one copy to school and got caught by the principal. Philip recalls that incident with a fond sort of relish, because he’d muttered that Alex shouldn’t reproduce because stupidity is potentially genetic and Robert had laughed loudly, leaning close enough for Philip to catch that dull cigarette smoke scent on his shoulders.

 

It’s a little different from his mom’s, a little more expensive, probably, but Robert has all the luck in the gene pool since he looks like he possesses none of the physical detriments of smoking. His teeth are as white as ever, gums perfectly pink and his hair looks amazing.

 

Philip’s fifteen and he tries not to linger on the fact that the guys spread across the magazines’ cover are actually rather attractive. Now that he’s on that trail of thought, it’s going to be hard to get in the mood for school.

 

He tucks the magazines away in the drawer, leaves a note with multiple angry faces scribbled across on his mom’s bed, under her pillow, and changes for school.

 

He has to try very hard not to flush when he sees Robert sitting in his seat and lighting up when he sees Philip.

 

It’s actually very easy to imagine Robert like the boys in the magazine, all spread out and smirking with incredible lighting. It hits Philip at this moment, just how damn distracting his libido is, and he silently forgives Alex a little for all his sex-related mental afflictions.

 

His mom probably thinks she’s trying to help, be accepting and all that, open hearted love with free choice for everybody and gay marriage has been legalised anyways, so she won’t have to source for some shady officiator for him, or something, but Philip will really appreciate it if she doesn’t try to take an active role in his love life. Or encourage his sex life.

 

At least, Philip reflects, he won’t be getting anyone pregnant anytime soon.

 

**7.**

Philip’s a quiet boy and he’s been doing a lot of thinking - a _lot_ of thinking lately, mostly about Robert in some positions that he’s not quite sure are entirely physically possible - but maybe he’s been thinking about the wrong thing all along, because he comes home one day to hear sirens outside his apartment block.

 

Robert, who intended to hang out at Philip’s house for a while to skimp on homework, blinks at the sight. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, and pauses for a while, before saying, “Fuck.”

 

Philip just stares at the car there, red and blue lights flashing, and he hopes he just looks like another passer-by trying to poke into other people’s business. There are a lot of strangers stopping by too, just to see who gets lugged into the car.

 

And Philip’s not an idiot, he knows what his mom is doing is very illegal. Drugs are the worst ever thing to do, illegal in every state, but Philip looks at his mom who smiles at him and runs a hair through his hair and he’s not- he’s not about to just, call the police on her.

 

Someone clearly did, or maybe the police did a drug bust and found some trace of her at the place and now they’re investigating, or maybe, _maybe_ \- and this thought makes Philip’s heart pound in his chest with the thought of hope - the police aren’t here for his mother.

 

It’s a shitty neighbourhood, everyone gets mugged here at least once a week, maybe they’re here to arrest someone _else_. Based on statistics - Philip does very well in Math, and even if he doesn’t, some boys like throwing statistics about how many junkies there are in Philip’s neighbourhood in his face because they’re jealous over how Robert’s so popular - his mom’s definitely not the only junkie in there. No way.

 

The main door opens, and Philip holds his breath, eyes widening. He even grips Robert’s wrist for moral support and Robert, being a great friend and affirming why Philip has the biggest crush on him, wraps his free arm around Philip and turns it into a hug, turning Philip away from the scene.

 

“You don’t have to watch,” Robert says quietly, and his voice is low, echoing in Philip’s ears. “I’ll tell you if it’s her.”

 

Philip shakes a little in his arms but turns back to watch anyway, turns back to watch because he’s not ashamed of his mom, not at all, not even if it’s her getting dragged into the cop’s car and-

 

And it is.

 

**8.**

For the next week, Philip doesn’t go home at all. He doesn’t want to go back to an empty house so he spends all seven days at Robert’s house. He wears Robert’s clothes, smokes every day like it’s going out of style and he even flips the thought of going out with Robert on his drug runs in his mind.

 

Of course, Philip chases that thought out of his mind immediately. He’s not about to be an idiot and fuck his life over just like that. He’s not an idiot. His mom raised him to be better than that. The only drugs he’ll ever be doing in life is smoking, and even then- he holds up a pack of cigarettes by the bottom right tip and it’s empty, which means he shouldn’t smoke any more because two packs in a week is way past the “acceptable” level to smoke.

 

But maybe one more.

 

Nicotine makes him go heady, get lost in his head a little, makes him drift about and makes him happy, or at least, happier. He sucks the smoke in and he forgets a bit about his mom and leans against Robert’s lap, laughing as he blows smoke into Robert’s face and his friend eyes him lazily before blowing smoke back.

 

This whole week has been a week of terrible decisions and Philip decides on the last day, when Robert’s mom is out - always out, Philip almost never sees her at all even though Robert and he haven’t left the house for a _week_ \- that he’ll make one more terrible decision. Just one, and it’s one that he’s been thinking about for a long time.

 

Robert smiles down at him, inhaling cigarette smoke and before he puffs it out, Philip leans up and presses his lips to Robert’s, lets the smoke swirl in his mouth and down his lungs, swallows Robert’s stifled laughter and lets Robert stick their cigarettes in an ashtray before tipping Philip down onto the couch.

 

He’s fifteen and gay and watching his mom get arrested has made him fucking _stupid_ , which is why Robert’s pressing down on him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and Philip’s kissing him like he’s running out of breath.

 

Philip’s not sure if he’s a good kisser, but Robert seems fine with it, a little pleased, even, with the way he cocks an eyebrow at Philip when he comes up for air, face flushed and lips curled up in a cocky smirk.

 

They don’t talk, not at _all_ for however long they’re on the couch, and by the time it’s over, Philip’s out of breath, eyes half lidded as he stares dazedly at the ceiling. He feels utterly ruined, feels wrung out and used, and Robert shifts on top of him, humming.

 

“Are you gay?” Philip asks into the silence, and the ceiling fan chokes at that moment, buzzing loudly and creaking. Robert presses a laugh into Philip’s neck and he can feel Robert’s lips curving up into a smile against his skin.

 

“Gay for you, maybe,” Robert says after a moment. “God knows I wouldn’t be gay for anyone else. Especially Alex.”

 

“Fuck Alex,” Philip says in a moment of deliriousness. He’s probably still hung up on all the hormones rushing through his veins. If this is what sex is, Philip’s a bit more open to understanding why Alex is so _gone_ on girls.

 

Robert laughs out loud, running a hand through Philip’s hair, brushing against his forehead and lingering at his temples. He holds Philip like he’s something breakable, something brittle and fragile, an experiment that could go wrong at any moment.

 

Philip’s phone rings once, a text message, but he ignores it.

 

Maybe this is what paradise feels like, he thinks, and breathes in the smell of smoke and leather.

 

**9.**

Child Protection Services can fuck off. Philip’s not interested in going _anywhere_. His mom’s right here, albeit in jail right now, but she’s here, in the city, and Robert’s here, his school’s here - even though he only enjoys school because of Robert, so it still boils down to the fact that Robert’s here, but yeah.

 

Everything Philip thinks he’ll ever need is right here in the city. CPS thinks he has to go live with some sheriff in some backwards town?

 

Philip knows what being the new kid is like. He’s never, of course, _been_ the new kid, not with Robert by his side, but he’s seen it. It’s not pretty. It ends in a lot of black eyes, broken noses and voices that can’t tremble as you look the principal in the eye and lie. If the new kid ever confesses that he’s being bullied, it’s even more of a social suicide.

 

He’s almost sixteen. In some states, that’s the age of consent. In some states, that’s when he can get emancipated. In some states, he doesn’t need the intervention of fucking CPS, who thinks they know what’s best for him.

 

Honestly, even Robert with his occasional stupid idea has a better notion of what’s “best for him” than CPS.

 

But he visits his mom in jail and she looks at him with these big sorry eyes, hair matted and skin bruised here and there, and the uniform’s a little too big for her, and she says through the glass-

 

“Philip,” she says very quietly, but she doesn’t usually speak loudly so Philip doesn’t have to strain to hear her voice. He can see the guards leaning in a little, trying to catch what she’s saying to ensure she isn’t trying to tell Philip to sneak in drugs for her, or anything like that. Not that Philip would do that.

 

Actually, if he thinks about it, thinks _seriously_ about it, there isn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for his mom. He has to reevaluate his life choices a bit.

 

“Mom?” He says, looking her in the eye. “They want me to go to stay with some sheriff. I don’t-” His voice cracks traitorously here and it’s alarming, to be honest. “I don’t want to go, Mom.”

 

It’s not like his mom has any choice whatsoever in the matter, not when she’s a junkie in the eye of the law and Philip is an “impressionable child”, but she leans forward and presses her hand against the glass like she can touch Philip.

 

“Baby,” she says. “You should go. When I’m better, you can come back.”

 

Philip- Philip is stupid. When it comes to the things he loves, he’s really fucking stupid. When it comes to his mom, when it comes _down to it all in the end_ , he’ll do anything his mom says. Because of some stupid filial piety, or some weird sense of duty, or because something in his chest hurts when he sees his mom look so torn apart. It feels like heartburn, like he ate curry too fast, choked himself on spice and now he’s not okay.

 

“ _Baby_ ,” his mom emphasises. “Just a while. You can come back soon. I swear I’ll get better. Never again, baby. I’ll never go back again.”

 

He believes her, because he’s fifteen and stupid and some part of him still thinks she hung the stars and the moon and he hears himself say, “Yeah, okay. Okay, Mom. I’ll go.”

 

It’s the last thing he wants to do, and when he tells Robert about how everything went, Robert looks at him like he’s an idiot.

 

“You sure?” Robert asks, like he’s offering Philip an out of the whole situation. Knowing Robert, and how he’s suddenly risen up in ranks or something in that weird gang he’s joined, he truly _can_ offer Philip an out.

 

But Philip knows that if he leaves now, if he disappears, his mom will never be the same. So he shakes his head and shrugs, gives Robert a small smile and says, “I’ll pass.”

 

Robert stares at him for a while and pulls him in, kisses the breath and life out of Philip, and for a long moment Philip feels like he’s dying. It’s a good kind of death, the kind that makes him look forward to reviving just to die again, via the same way.

 

When they break apart, Robert’s lifted Philip’s phone from his pocket and is entering his new number. Robert is a strange boy who keeps changing phone numbers but sure, whatever.

 

CPS, in a stunning moment of efficiency, works devastatingly fast and everything is set in a matter of days. In less than two weeks, Philip’s in a car, watching the city disappear behind him with a map of Tivoli in his lap and all his belongings packed into two duffel bags at his side.

 

**10.**

Philip’s right, being the new kid fucking _sucks_.

 

Everybody stares at him, they point and make jokes at his expense and the worst part is, they _all know his life story_. It’s too large of a power struggle, because that white kid in school who thinks he’s hot shit can hold Philip’s junkie mom in jail as leverage over his head while all Philip knows is that the white kid can’t take a fucking punch.

 

Philip lays one on him, good and hard, makes his knuckles ache with the force and immediately the white kid bawls his eyes out. Snot everywhere, sobbing like a baby and his nose is broken because Philip knows how to punch. Robert’s a good teacher.

 

They end up in the principal’s office with no one standing up for Philip but everyone suddenly testifying that they saw the new kid punch John. John Doe, Philip thinks, and he snorts, glancing at the boy.

 

John, for some reason, is sneaking a look at Philip at the very same moment and he balks, shuddering a little as he moves closer to his father. Gabe’s by Philip’s side, trying to reason with the principal that _surely that’s not grounds for a suspension_ , and it really isn’t, Philip was sure to read the whole rulebook back to front and he can quote it if he needs to, but he’s fairly certain that being the foster son of the sheriff means even the principal of Red Hook High will be a bit lenient to him.

 

The principal probably just wants to make Gabe sweat.

 

John, whose surname is not Doe, but something fancy and posh and rich like _Henderson_ , shakes when he walks by Philip. He’s half a head taller than Philip but John keeps his head down when he walks, shoulders hunched over and fingers pressed gently to the bridge of his nose, and Philip feels satisfied. This is probably why Robert liked fighting those thugs so much.

 

“Philip,” Gabe says slowly, outside the principal’s office. Classes have ended, after school activities are next to non-existent, apparently, since no one’s lingering in the halls, and Gabe’s reprimanding voice echoes in the hallways. He sounds like he’s disappointed, and Philip finds that he cares a teeny bit.

 

Maybe it’s because he’s never had a father figure in his life, and maybe it’s because it feels a whole lot more like Gabe cares more than Helen, but Philip finds that he holds Gabe’s opinion of him in far higher regard than he does for Helen.

 

“Yes?” Philip answers, and he’s proud of how his voice doesn’t shake. It’s a culture shock, going from being the friend of the most popular guy in school to being not only the social outcast, but the guy who gets bullied in the corridors and gets slammed into lockers and tripped up when he tries to get to his seat.

 

It’s all for no reason whatsoever, just to ascertain social hierarchy, and probably because Philip looks weak and they know his mom is a junkie. It’s _genetic_ , or so stupid white teenagers think. _If your mom’s a junkie, it means you’re stupid and fucked up too. Let’s get rid of our repressed anger that came about through puberty and uncontrollable hormone levels by trashing you!_

 

Gabe sighs and looks at his hands. He looks up again, and gives Philip a small, tired smile. “I’m sorry kid,” he says. “I know sometimes they get rough and mean with the new kid. It’s not your fault at all. Don’t think that any of this is because of you. It’s their fault, not yours. I’ll try to speak with their parents to get them to lay off.”

 

“No need,” Philip replies immediately, because he knows how teenagers get when their parents get involved. “I’ll be fine. Just keep my head down and all that.”

 

“Ah,” Gabe says, face clearing. “If you have anything you want to talk to me about, however-” He hesitates a bit, leaning in. “I understand if you find it a bit strange to confide in Helen, seeing as you do have a mom. But please, do come talk to me if you have anything you want to say. I’ll always listen to you.”

 

Philip nods briefly and they go to Gabe’s car and Gabe drives home.

 

If he had a dad like Gabe, Philip thinks to himself, counting the number of houses they pass by, he’d probably have a better life by now.

 

**11.**

There’s not much to do in a small town like Tivoli, not when the town’s so small that all the kids from school hang out almost _everywhere_. Philip has to actually _work_ to find a secluded area that no one really goes to.

 

At the very least, ever since he pinned a particularly beefy rugby player down and gave him a black eye for bad-mouthing his mother - and what do you know, they _do_ have after school activities - the rest of the school population has pretty much left him alone. He doesn’t have any friends, that’s for sure, but he texts Robert every day and there’s this corner out by the forest, a run-off road that leads to some old shack.

 

A rather nice guy has dropped by the shack once or twice, and he’s given Philip the all clear to just hang out on the logs nearby and take pictures or something, so it’s not too bad.

 

It gets bad when some wannabe hipster screeches to a stop next to the shack on a motorbike that Philip’s one hundred percent sure Robert would trash. Robert doesn’t really like it when people have nicer stuff than him, especially if they’re self entitled kids, so Philip takes a photo of the bike and the rider to send to Robert.

 

Robert texts back a string of expletives that makes Philip smile, but as he looks up, the smile drops off his face. Just his luck, to be faced with Lukas Last-Name-Something, all pale skin, sunlight hair and blue eyes. A popular kid, somewhere near the top of the social hierarchy. Has a girlfriend. A girl named Rose. Friends with Dave, or something.

 

And apparently, he rides a motorbike.

 

Lukas stares at him for what must be at least a full minute, which is an unnerving amount of time to stare at someone, and Philip just goes back to taking pictures and sketching. Lukas clearly isn’t the owner of this shack - because that nice man was, probably - and he can’t chase Philip away.

 

“You take pictures?”

 

Philip looks up and blinks at Lukas, who looks like he’s contemplating suicide. Lukas probably didn’t intend to start any conversation whatsoever, but just to rub it in and be petty, Philip replies, “Yeah. You ride motorbikes?”

 

Lukas now looks like he’s contemplating homicide, or perhaps he’s thinking about some social hierarchy suicide because he just talked to the _new "junkie’s son" kid_ , but hesitantly nods. “Yeah.”

 

Great, Philip thinks. What an enlightening conversation. Absolutely stunning.

 

He takes a few more shots of Lukas with his helmet off just so that Robert has an actual face to hunt down and turns back to the lake.

 

There’s the sound of tires screaming against dirt and in a flash, Lukas is gone. There are dirt tracks in the mud and Philip takes some pictures of them because he’s bored and he’s actually spent the last few days here. He’s running out of things to photograph, and he’s tired of sketching. This town is really, really small compared to the city.

 

In the city, if he was bored, he’d go clubbing. Or at least, he went _once_ , with Robert acting the devil on his shoulder and tempting him to do highly illegal things.

 

He swipes through the photos in his phone and pauses on one, looks at Lukas’ confused face, nose scrunched up and mouth open, hair in his eyes, the unflattering image caught in a brief moment of genius on Philip’s part.

 

Philip sends it to Robert.

 

 _He looks horrible._ Robert replies. _All pasty._

 

 _It’s an unflattering image_ , Philip texts. He has at least tried to defend Lukas once, and once is far more than enough. _But he does look a bit too white, doesn’t he? Like a vampire._

 

 _Weren’t you attracted to the idea of vampires once?_ _All that Twilight shit until I beat into your mind what a healthy relationship’s like._

 

 _You say that like you know what a healthy relationship is,_ Philip sends back petulantly. Honestly, the _concept_ of Edward was nice. The way he was portrayed in the book, not so nice. A little creepy. Freaky. Stalkerish. Philip would call the cops on Lukas’ ass if he was anything like Edward. He’d call Helen, who was probably the only cop.

 

_We didn’t do half bad ;)_

 

It startles a laugh out of Philip and his fingers tremble as he types back, shoulders shaking with laughter.

 

Honestly, well, if Philip’s going to be honest, Lukas is easy on the eyes. Like butter, all melted and smooth. Not that Lukas is smooth in any way, because he seems to be awkward like every other teenager when he’s next to Rose, but figuratively, like melting butter. Easy on the eyes.

 

But Philip didn’t come here to fool around with anybody, so he wipes the thought from his mind.

 

**12.**

The way it happens, it’s a stroke of luck. Maybe not so lucky for Lukas, because he almost crashes his motorbike and stumbles off with eyes wild and chest heaving, mouth open and primed to scream at Philip for startling him.

 

For Philip, it’s a huge stroke of luck because boys doing stunts on motorbikes is not only extremely attractive - aesthetically pleasing, though Philip won’t lie and say it doesn’t give Lukas any points - but it also gives Philip something to photograph. Even sketch, if Philip can bring himself to take the time to sit down and plot it out. He’s lazy, and a lack of determination translates into an empty sketchbook.

 

“What’re you doing here?!” Lukas yells at him, pushing his fringe out of his eyes and he looks demented. “You’re standing in front of my camera!”

 

“Camera?” Philip looks around and doesn’t see any tripod stand or Canon camera hanging off a tree branch, so he looks at his feet and yeah, there’s a phone balanced against a rock. Lukas stomps towards him, the ground shaking with every step and the phone wobbles, tipping over and falling onto the ground.

 

Lukas is very lucky the ground just has lots of dirt, because if there’s any gravel on there, that phone’s camera is gone. Philip bends down, dusting the dirt off the front screen and pauses the recording.

 

“Here,” he offers to Lukas, holding the phone out like it’s a peace offering. “Your uh, camera.”

 

The boy snatches it from him like Philip’s carrying some touch-transmitted, highly contagious disease and rubs the phone against his shirt, trying to get Philip’s fingerprints off of the glass.

 

He gives Philip a dirty look, once which Philip just raises an eyebrow at.

 

“You do stunts?” Philip asks curiously. It’s partially for the sake of making small talk, because he’s really been deprived of any social activity whatsoever ever since he moved to Tivoli, and partially because Lukas really _does_ look good doing them. Then again, anyone with a nice body would look good doing stunts since they’d be wearing a helmet.

 

“I- yeah, yeah I do.” Lukas swallows tightly and glances to the side, the large expanse of forest and dirt, and his eyes slide back to Philip. “Are you any good with that thing?” He nods at Philip’s phone in his hands.

 

Philip looks down at his phone and turns it over in his hands, shrugging. “I like to think I don’t do half bad,” he says, lips tilting up as he waves it at Lukas. “Want me to video you or something?”

 

He’s not actually _offering_ , but then Lukas hesitates and looks like he’s considering it, and yeah okay, with that look on his face, Philip changes his mind and decides that yes, he is in fact offering to spend time with Lukas and video his sick moves.

 

Lukas shifts on the spot, tugging at the bottom of his shirt and there’s an awkward silence falling. Philip’s about to shrug again and laugh it off when Lukas suddenly says, “Yeah. I’d like it if you could. Appreciate it.”

 

Philip’s eyebrows rise so high he’s fairly certain they’re hidden by his hair but he inclines his head and tilts his phone up. “Starting now?”

 

Lukas blinks at him for a few minutes, probably processing some important data in that mind of his and gets on his bike. “We’ll go easy,” he decides, and revs the engine. “Just to try it out first.”

 

“Sure.” Philip stands to the side, leans against a rock for good measure since he isn’t sure how long Lukas wants to ride for and lifts his phone up. “All ready.”

 

“I-” Lukas pauses, closes his mouth and opens it again. He looks off to the side and if Philip zooms in close with his phone, Lukas looks a bit- flushed? Full to the brim with embarrassment, probably, having to ask the weird new kid to video for him.

 

“Thanks,” Lukas says firmly, looking Philip in the eye long enough for Philip’s heart to do one single somersault like an aspiring gymnast, and Lukas immediately jams his helmet on his head and revs the engine again.

 

“Sure,” Philip replies to no one, voice drowned out by the sounds of the engine purring. He’s bewildered, heart beating weirdly fast, but he feels good. _Sure_ , he thinks again, and starts recording.

 

**13.**

Philip, possessing a healthy amount of common sense and a keen understanding of the social hierarchy in Red Hook High, does not take personal offense at how Lukas continues to ignore him in school.

 

Alright, it kinda hurts, like someone punched him hard in the chest and he’s out of breath, but it’s not that bad. He’s actually been punched hard like that and it hurts more than this aching feeling.

 

“He sounds like a right asshole,” Robert tells him over the phone, and he whoops when he hits bullseye with a dart. “You can come over to the city anytime, y’know. Get away from all his bullshit.”

 

“ _You’re_ a right asshole,” Philip says, “and I put up with you for so long.”

 

“But you _love_ me,” Robert needles and there’s the sound of him falling onto his bed with a thump. “You only kinda like Lukas because of his fancy hair and nice ass. Does he look anything like me? Maybe you have a type.”

 

“Yeah, _assholes_ ,” Philip snorts, tossing in his bed. “That’s my type.”

 

“Got it in one,” Robert replies and his voice goes low and sultry. “Because you’re gay, get it?” He purrs, and Philip laughs so hard he’s afraid he’ll wake Helen and Gabe up.

 

Philip pulls his covers up higher and tries to suffocate himself with his pillow. “You’ll make me wake them up,” he complains, but his lips tick up when Robert’s laugh comes through.

 

“And maybe- yeah,” he continues, rolling back to lie on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “Maybe I can convince Helen to let me go back. Visit you. Hang out at the school or something. Tell her I’m visiting friends.”

 

“Does she have a tracker on you?”

 

“Wha- Are you serious?” Philip sounds incredulous, but Robert just hums and if he thinks about it seriously, it’s- it’s a possibility. “I didn’t think of that.”

 

“Yeah see, I spend so long trying to think like the law to evade it that I know how they work,” Robert sighs. “Ditch your phone or something. She probably just uses the ‘find my phone’ app. You can use one of my spares to call her or Gabe to tell them you’re at my place. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.”

 

It startles a laugh out of Philip and he grins into his pillow. He- he misses Robert. He really does. And if they go clubbing while he’s there and Philip gets _lucky_ , well, that’s just a bonus, isn’t it?

 

“And hey,” Robert adds, a little more serious. “I heard your mom’s out. Judge said you couldn’t see her but y’know, fuck the judge. Gabe seems like an _understanding man_.”

 

The way Robert says “understanding man” sounds like he’s doing air quotes with his fingers, but Philip’s mind locks on to the fact that his mom’s out of jail. Why didn’t anyone tell him? Maybe it’s some tactical maneuver on CPS’ part to ensure he doesn’t feel the temptation to run back to the city to see her, or something.

 

“Maybe I’ll drop by on the weekend,” Philip says hopefully. “And I really gotta sleep now, because Helen sure isn’t letting me stay home because I didn’t sleep at night.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Robert says teasingly. “Good kids go to bed early at- two in the morning, yup. Get some rest. You’ve got to sell your case to Helen and Gabe tomorrow.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

**14.**

Lukas is probably under the impression that Philip’s just here to video him and that’s it. Maybe he thinks Philip is interested in his bike, or his sick moves, but that’s it.

 

Lukas has been raised in a very conservative, very traditional family where they still shoot turkeys for no reason and it’s probably why he has never ever, _ever_ , considered the possibility that Philip is there because he likes Lukas and not the bike.

 

Though the bike’s pretty damn sweet, too.

 

And it’s not like Lukas is single. He’s very much attached, though with how awkward he acts around Rose, still very much a virgin. Or at least, he hasn’t done it with her. Taking things slow, or maybe because Lukas is nothing like Alex and he doesn’t date girls just to have sex.

 

But the fact remains that no matter how attractive - and passably nice to Philip, but that’s mainly because Philip’s doing him multiple favors - Lukas is, he’s most definitely _not interested_ in Philip.

 

Or rather, that’s what Philip thinks until Lukas pushes him into the lake one day, just for fun, dumps him there and lets himself get dragged under by a vengeful Philip.

 

Lukas has been considerate - considerate? - enough to leave Philip’s jacket on shore because his jacket won’t deal well with lake water and Philip’s wearing a light grey shirt and denim jeans.

 

Philip will swear on his grave that swimming in denim is a _shit_ idea, but a light grey shirt that very quickly becomes see through with how drenched he is? Brilliant.

 

Lukas is wearing a _white_ shirt, even better, and Philip can throw him brief glances as often as he wants. What’s the best part about the whole situation is that Philip _catches_ Lukas’ eyes wandering every now and then as well, and come on, only the two of them are in the lake right now and Lukas sure as hell isn’t staring out into the vastness of the lake, contemplating the meaning of life.

 

He’s staring at Philip, Philip’s _see through shirt_ that clings to his body and yeah, Philip’s smug as hell.

 

He sidles up close, leans in until Lukas’ eyes get shifty and they try to dart away. “You’re soaking wet,” Philip says, and draws away, lets Lukas recollect himself, lets Lukas gulp in a few necessary breaths.

 

“ _You’re_ probably five pounds soaking wet,” Lukas throws back, grinning and he pushes his fringe back, out of his eyes that are suddenly a startling cyan that makes Philip’s heart trip over itself. _Fuck_ , Philip thinks, and looks away hurriedly. _Fuck._

 

“Five pounds of pure muscle, and that’s more muscle than what you’ve got,” Philip says, and Lukas looks at him like he’s considering something bad, something _dirty_ , the way he looks at his bike and whistles. Philip’s an idiot, because he smiles at Lukas and flexes. He has absolutely nothing to show off but he does anyways, trying to show off whatever his biceps are doing.

 

Lukas throws his head back and laughs, the most carefree Philip’s ever seen him and Philip’s not a good guy, he’s not, he’s _so not_ because he traces the curve of Lukas’ Adam’s Apple with his eyes and he has to swallow because his mouth’s exceptionally dry all of a sudden.

 

“C’mon,” Lukas says, slinging a wet arm around Philip’s neck, leaning in close enough to make it feel like he’s whispering some quiet secret into Philip’s ear, and breathes out, “let’s go change. Can’t get on my bike while we’re soaking wet.”

 

Philip’s shirt is so wet that it just feels like some weird damp tissue in between Philip’s back and Lukas’ arm and he can feel it all, the solid muscle in Lukas’ forearm, the warmth leaking through his shirt, how it feels when Lukas presses against him and pushes him in the direction of the shore and boy, Philip wants to let loose a ton of swear words.

 

“I don’t have any spare clothes.” Philip stumbles out of the lake with his arms wrapped around his middle and Lukas laughs at him, knocking his shoulder into Philip’s. “Stop it, it’s not funny, I really _don’t have anything to wear._ ”

 

“You’re an idiot,” Lukas teases, eyes bright, and Philip feels like he’d be perfectly content just standing there and hear Lukas throw insults at him all day in that teasing tone. “I’ve got a shack, haven’t I? In case you’ve been blind all those times you’ve been in it, there’s a closet. Which has clothes.”

 

“It’s not _your_ shack,” Philip clarifies, but steals the keys dangling from Lukas’ fingers and throws the door wide open. He strides over to the closet and stares at the clothes in it. “Are these all your clothes? Does your dad even spend _time_ in here?”

 

Lukas pushes him out of the way. “In his _youth_ , yeah. Then he gave it to me, because he’s too lazy to drive down here anymore. Just comes every once in a while. It’s mostly mine.”

 

He pushes a few clothes out of the way, holds up a shirt next to Philip and sighs like he’s been deeply affronted. “Philip,” Lukas says, shaking his head, but his lips are curved up and a smile instinctively tugs at Philip’s lips. “Why are you so short? You’ll drown in my clothes.”

 

“Just give me something,” Philip says - he tries to snap at Lukas, say it like he’s insulted, but he’s really not, not when amusement is all that lingers in Lukas’ eyes. He reaches in and grabs a random T-shirt and jeans, blinks at them for a moment and nods firmly. “I’ll be taking these.”

 

Philip moves into a corner and sets the clothes down on the table before peering over his shoulder. “Don’t look,” he warns, narrowing his eyes. “Turn around and change.”

 

“Wha- I don’t _want_ to look!” Lukas cries out, mouth open in shock. “And- I mean, anyways, we’ve all got the same stuff, there isn’t a _reason_ to look. Not like you-you’re Rose.”

 

“So you’d peek at Rose, is that it?” Philip says loftily, like he’s made of higher morals. Which is patently not true, because if Lukas were changing, Philip would turn and look. As long as he can. And try to burn the image into his mind. “Pervert.”

 

“Shut up,” Lukas replies, rolling his eyes, and as he turns, he tugs his shirt off. Which, well, as Lukas said, they’ve all got the same stuff, haven’t they? Philip’s just trying to measure up next to Lukas. See if his back’s as muscular as Lukas’. Got to check out the competition.

 

Philip swallows again and turns, desperately trying to sear the image of a shirtless Lukas - from the back, which is clearly important because Philip has a thing for Adam Apples and _backs_ \- into his mind and tugs his own shirt off. Changing is a process in itself because denim is horrible to pull off when wet and sticky, but he somehow manages. Lukas’ jeans are probably from when he was three years younger or something, because they’re tighter than anything Philip’s ever worn.

 

“Do you have a mirror somewhere?” Philip asks, careful not to turn around. If he catches Lukas changing out of his jeans, Philip can’t promise he won’t just keep looking until Lukas catches him looking. “Your jeans are tight. Really tight. How old are these?”

 

“Couple years,” Lukas replies. “There’s probably a mirror to your right or something. Full length, too. Does the shirt fit okay?”

 

Philip inches over to the mirror and stares. Yeah, his ass looks great, and they really leave nothing to imagination, not helped by the fact that Philip’s not actually wearing his boxers - since they were, y’know, _drenched_ and Philip isn’t wearing wet boxers below clean, dry denim. “I look fantastic,” he says, and he can’t hide the undercurrent of satisfaction in his voice. “Do you have any other clothes from three years ago?”

 

“Fantastic?” Lukas repeats, and he sounds disbelieving. “Philip Shea, looking fantastic in something I ow-”

 

There’s the sound of choking, and Philip looks over to see Lukas staring at him. “Well yeah,” Philip says, and turns back to the mirror. “Flattering. It looks pretty flattering, doesn’t it? Better than anything I own, which is depressing.”

 

“You look-” Lukas visibly swallows, which does things to Philip, dangerous things that should be avoided because these jeans are terribly tight and absolutely everything is visible. “You look small.”

 

That’s not what Lukas intended on saying, Philip decides, since Lukas’ looking especially flushed. But whatever, Philip’s a generous guy, he’ll let it slide. For now.

 

Later though, no promises whatsoever.

 

**15.**

“Wait,” Lukas says, and he looks horrified. Philip raises an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t- You didn’t. Ask for a change of underwear.”

 

“You didn’t offer,” Philip replies and shrugs. “And I thought it was a bit awkward, so I didn’t bother.”

 

“These jeans aren’t wet,” Lukas says slowly, and his eyes drop down to where Philip is seated behind him on the motorbike. “You-”

 

“Yeah,” Philip says, and his lips twist up.

 

Lukas stares at him for a long while, mouth open in shock, and Philip can see red creeping up along the side of Lukas’ neck and collecting at the high of his cheekbones.

 

“We’ve all got the same stuff, no big deal,” Philip reminds him, and laughs when Lukas groans.

 

**16.**

The first time Philip tries to kiss Lukas, he gets slapped in the face. Philip’s so shocked he just remains in that position for a while, staring out of the window next to Lukas’ bed, and reevaluates his life choices for a few seconds.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Lukas says, and he sounds scared. Terrified, if Philip dares to say it, and no, he didn’t want to make Lukas frightened. He thought- Philip always thought they were on the same page. Or at least, on the same chapter. Or the same book. The way Lukas is reacting seems like he was in a whole different library.

 

Philip blinks and looks at him. He- he can’t say anything. He just bites down and swallows. “Nothing.”

 

Lukas looks- his stupidly perfect body framed with the afternoon light through the window and he looks like something that will break Philip’s heart. A sledgehammer crashing through the “ONLY BREAK IN TIMES OF EMERGENCY” glass to press the emergency button and give Philip heart failure.

 

“I’m not- No, I- I’m not.” Lukas stammers, running a hand through his hair, a nervous tick that Philip’s found out. His hand’s shaking a little too, and Lukas is breathing much faster.

 

“Okay,” Philip says, and backs away. Lets Lukas have his own space. Not much he can do right now, anyways. He just got slapped. He just got _slapped_.

 

“I thought, I thought you were into- motorcross?” Lukas says, and he sounds hopeful. God, is Lukas actually straight after all? Maybe everything was just some weird intense bromance that Philip read wrong. He’s never really had a bromance, which is maybe why the lines bled a bit and he mixed up a bromance with a romance.

 

“No, I’m not, actually,” Philip replies. “Maybe it’s better if I-” He stands, because actions speak louder than words. Like that slap. _Fuck_ , he’s so hung up on that slap. It hurts as much as a punch to the face. Hurts deep in his chest, like a puncture wound. Burns a little and his face is probably flushed.

 

If Lukas tried to kiss Rose and got slapped, Philip swears he’ll probably have moved towns by now.

 

“No, no, no.” Lukas stands as well, and his hands gesture at nothing by his waist, opening and clenching emptily. He looks lost and Philip kind of pities him a little. “I- stay. Stay a bit. Just, stay?”

 

“I’ll send you the videos,” Philip says, because that’s probably why Lukas wants him to stay. “Don’t worry. And I can keep videoing for you, if you want. It’s no big deal. Motorcross isn’t half bad.”

 

“Sit,” Lukas forces out, and presses his hands to Philip’s shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed. “I- just, sit.”

 

Philip sits, and he looks up at Lukas’, who’s still standing. Lukas takes a deep breath and sits next to Philip, fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt and looking nervous as hell. “Okay,” Lukas says, and he does some breathing exercise until his fingers stop shaking. “Okay.”

 

He opens his eyes and pulls Philip in, presses his lips against Philip’s and it feels like a nightmare turned dream come true. Lukas’ lips are a little dry and Philip’s the one who coaxes Lukas’s trembling mouth open, his hands coming up to stabilise Lukas’ shoulders.

 

Is Lukas trying to satisfy Philip with sex? Some sort of trade, like _I’ll be gay with you, you help me with motorcross filming._ But Philip’s already offered to help anyways, even with the awkward air lingering between them, and Lukas still presses him into the bed, suddenly a whole lot more aggressive, his leg sliding in between Philip’s legs.

 

Philip has had many dreams that start out this way and he archs up, slings his arms around Lukas’ neck and drags him down, presses up against Lukas until they’re pressed together, collarbone to hip. “Come on,” he murmurs when they break apart for air, and Lukas doesn’t say anything, just breathes out harsh breaths against Philip’s neck and makes a weak noise.

 

Philip fits his mouth to the curve of Lukas’ neck and sucks lightly, bites down and Lukas is saying, “no, no marks, no one can know-” until he gasps when Philip runs his fingers up Lukas’ spine. No marks, sure, Philip can work with that. Easy. Just make out until he dies.

 

“Easy,” he says, and leans up to kiss Lukas, a sloppy open mouthed kiss as he pulls Lukas over until Lukas is pressed up against Philip’s thigh. “C’mon, I’ve got you.”

 

Lukas whines softly, and Philip smirks into his collarbone. He’s more experienced in this area than Lukas ever will be, if Philip’s his gay awakening, and he slides his thigh and angles it upwards, presses _hard_ and Lukas’ breath catches.

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Lukas pants, and his eyes look glazed over. “ _Fuck_.”

 

“Fuck,” Philip agrees, a breathless grin on his face and he draws Lukas closer. “C’mon,” he repeats against Lukas’ lips, “take your shirt off.”

 

“What?” Lukas says dazedly. “I- yeah, okay.”

 

“Mm. We’ve got as long as we want.”

 

**17.**

They do not have as long as they want. In fact, they almost die. It’s the worst thing Philip’s ever experienced, and he does not want to be that close to death ever again.

 

Maybe it’s best to forget the whole incident. Near death experience, and Lukas had a mental breakdown in the forest. He’s not gay, not like _Philip_ , not one of _them_. Lukas spits it out like a derogatory term, like he’s fucking _ashamed_ to know Philip’s gay even though he was participating whole-heartedly just hours before and it makes Philip angry. Upset, yeah, like something’s lodged in the back of his throat and his eyes are watering, but it makes him _angry_.

 

Being gay is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to scorn at, nothing to blame or scream and Lukas trying to vehemently deny and blackout everything that just happened is more painful than what followed, when Lukas said that they didn’t even “know each other in school, they don’t know we even _talk_.”

 

Which, yeah. They don’t talk. And whatever, Philip’s done. He’s _done_. That’s it. It’s over. He’s never going to do anything for Lukas, or talk to him, or take videos of his stupid ass motorcross because Philip’s fucking pissed and upset.

 

He presses his palms to his eyes and takes deep breaths. _City_ , he thinks, and the thought of New York calms his palpitating heart. He’ll drop by his house, catch up with his mom. Just for a bit. It can’t hurt, can it?

 

He’s facing severe emotional trauma, he reasons. He needs his mom.

 

 _Lukas is an asshole,_ he texts Robert, and stares out the bus to look at the passing scenery. Mostly trees. At least greenery is calming.

 

 _Ah shit,_ Robert texts back. _Thought you really liked him. See, you like assholes. Can’t be helped. Want me to do something?_

 

 _I’m coming up,_ Philip replies.

 

_To the city? Alright, I’ll drop by your mom’s. If you aren’t taking a day off, we’ll have to make the most of it._

 

He deserves _better_ than Lukas. Robert, for instance, would never have done something like that to him. Philip’s a stupid idiot for liking Lukas. He’s so- so fucking _idiotic_ and it-

 

Philip blinks and he rubs furiously at his eyes. _Dammit_ , he thinks. Lukas doesn’t deserve to be cried over, not when he’s such an asshole. Philip should forget about him. Wipe him out of his mind and pretend the whole thing never happened. Lukas was a bad choice.

 

He feels more than a bit broken, and it sucks.

 

**18.**

“Tell me about your love life,” his mom says, and it’s meant to be teasing, to be a joke, but Philip freezes up and he knows she caught that. “What? _Oh._ ”

 

No, Philip wants to say. No “oh”. Nothing. There’s nothing. Lukas is nothing. He’s like dog shit that you unwittingly step in.

 

“Yeah,” Philip’s mouth says, because he has no brain to mouth filter. “It’s a boy.”

 

“Mmhmm,” his mom smiles and shifts on the sofa. “Does he know that you like him?”

 

“He knows.” Philip swallows. “But he wants to keep it a secret.”

 

His mom stills. “Oh baby,” she says, and reaches out. Maybe something in his voice gave it away. It probably shook when he said that. He hates how he’s still not over Lukas, not over his stupid hair and stupid eyes, the way he laughs and the way he trusted Philip when they were fooling around.

 

“I hate him,” he says into her shirt and she hugs him tighter. “I hate him so much, Mom, I can’t stand it.”

 

“Shh,” she soothes and rubs his back. “I know it hurts, baby. I’m so sorry.”

 

“I don’t want to like him anymore,” he says, and she presses a kiss to his hair. Come to think of it, she probably knows how he’s feeling, doesn’t she? She’s the queen of bad decisions. She married a shitty guy, too.

 

But she still managed to find a way to keep on living and even raised a son - as loosely as the term can be used - so she’s better off than he is. Philip doesn’t know how to cope with this horrendous feeling inside his chest.

 

“Sometimes we make bad decisions,” she says, and he nods. “And sometimes they hurt us a lot, but it’s not your fault. You need to understand that he’s hurting you, and it’s his fault. You’re not to blame. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“He said- he has a girlfriend, Mom. He has a girlfriend and he fooled around with me.”

 

“Well, some boys think they can get the best of both worlds and get away with it,” she says gently, and Philip snorts. As if it’s that easy. “They can’t, obviously, and they hurt people when they try.”

 

“I still like him, but that’s stupid, isn’t it?”

 

“At the very least,” his mom says, and when he looks up, her eyes are glinting. “You’re in a small town, baby. There’s nowhere for him to run. He’ll have to keep looking at you and think, _what-if_. You’re not in New York, baby.”

 

Not like his father, Philip deduces. Nowhere for him to run.

 

“Robert’s picking me up,” he says after a while. “Then I’ll go back.”

 

She presses her lips to his forehead. “Stay safe, alright?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He doesn’t tell her about the near death experience, but in the booth at the back of the club, head in Robert’s lap and a drink in hand, he spills it all.

 

**19.**

Lukas throws the first punch. All to save his own reputation and look like he’s not talking to the weird new kid in school. He throws the first punch and it’s a _shit_ punch, a throw that doesn’t even touch Philip because Lukas can’t fight at all.

 

Philip does trip and back up into the lockers with a startling amount of force though, and the crowd rings with laughter. Philip - he, as well, has a reputation to maintain, because if he lets Lukas beat him up just because he _likes_ Lukas, it spells trouble for him. So he goes in and throws the second punch. He barely clips Lukas, times it to make sure Lukas isn’t _severely injured_ or anything, but already Lukas’ jaw is bruising while Philip still looks unblemished whatsoever.

 

They fight until a teacher - the principal? - comes in and breaks them up, and someone calls Philip a _freak_ which makes him turn around and pull his hand back, ready to punch someone in the crowd when the teacher forcibly pulls him to the principal’s office.

 

Gabe comes, because Helen’s caught up in the whole thing with the triple homicides - which, as promised, Philip has not told anyone whom Lukas _knows_ , so he didn’t break any promise at all - and the whole thing is settled in a matter of hours.

 

It doesn’t matter, not at all, but when Lukas exited the room right before Philip went in with Gabe, he strongly resembled a kicked puppy. And when Philip gave him a dirty look, narrowed eyes and slightly bared teeth, Lukas had flinched back from him.

 

Here’s the thing. Philip’s pretty bad, low morals, all that, but he’s not a _bad_ guy. If Lukas is really traumatised from his gay awakening, although Philip knows that Lukas derived enjoyment and pleasure from it because that sure wasn’t a brick pressed against his thigh, then Philip should probably help him through it. Give him some therapy. Educate him.

 

And when he sees the murder board, it just gives him another reason to drop by and talk to Lukas. It’s probably best to talk, right? Give each other closure. Forget about the whole thing and pretend it never happened, which is probably something Lukas is good at.

 

**20.**

In theory, pretending the whole kissing thing didn’t happen is extremely easy. In practice, Philip bikes all the way to Lukas’ house and his dad directs Philip up to Lukas’ room. Philip plays the part of new student frighteningly well and smiles charmingly at Lukas’ dad until he leaves the house.

 

He enters Lukas’ room and all of a sudden, he’s overcome with the thought that Lukas is attractive. Even after the whole soul-searching moment with his mom, Lukas is still infuriatingly attractive and he makes Philip’s heart try out for Olympic gymastics. He makes Philip feel like his pants are two sizes too small and his heart’s about to backflip out of his throat and it’s not okay, not at all.

 

“What’s-” Lukas gestures between them after the whole murder conversation’s out of the way, confusion in his eyes, “what’s this?”

 

“You’re into me,” Philip enunciates clearly. Surely Lukas can’t misinterpret this. “You like me. In _that way_.”

 

“I don't. I can’t,” Lukas says. “I- I can’t be that guy. No one wants me to be that guy. I _can’t_.” He looks harried, and the irritation is rising again, pooling in Philip’s gut, agitation that this guy in front of him is just so adamantly against being gay. Or bi, if he’s still into Rose.

 

“What if you _are_ that guy?” Philip throws out, and Lukas freezes. He runs his hand through his hair and paces, frustration etched on his face. “Come on, Lukas. Face it. What’s so bad about it?”

 

They throw a few insults back and forth, gearing up to tear into each other, when Philip says, “you’re a spoiled-ass rich kid.”

 

And Lukas says, “and your mom’s a junkie, so?”

 

Philip bites back whatever he’s about to say and has to clench his fists to prevent himself from laying into Lukas. Just- he has to physically stop himself from punching Lukas. “You didn’t have to say that.”

 

To his credit, Lukas looks appropriately chastised. “I’m sorry.”

 

Philip wants to be a kid and say, “sorry’s not _enough_ ” but he’s not a kid, so he swallows his words and blinks hard. It all seems surreal. He’s in Lukas’ bed, lazily propped up against the pillow and this- this weird volley of insults is not how he thought this would go.

 

Lukas stops in his tracks like he somehow caught that stray thought and he eyes Philip in a new light. “Okay,” he says, out of nowhere, and climbs over, licking into Philip’s mouth. Philip will blame this moment on being caught off guard because he goes boneless instantly, relaxing into the kiss, and it doesn’t occur to him that no, he shouldn’t be doing this because Lukas’ unzipping his pants and woah-

 

“No,” Philip says, and he’s proud of how steady his voice is. “No.”

 

“No?” Lukas repeats, brows pushed together, like he can’t imagine anyone turning down his body. To be fair, had Lukas done this to him three days ago, Philip would already be naked and ready.

 

“No.” Phillip pushes Lukas off and gets off the bed. “I’m not going to be your little _bitch_.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me,” Philip says, and straightens his clothes out. “You can’t just- You can’t just punch me, then want to have sex with me, and at the same time, fool around with Rose because you’re _not that guy._  You have to make your mind up.”

 

“I-” Lukas laughs, an awkward laugh that’s terribly out of place because Philip isn’t finding this situation funny at all. “What’s there to decide?”

 

Philip thinks he can hear something crack, like when a car crashes and there are spiderweb cracks lining the glass, that moment just before all the glass shatters into pieces, and he swallows tightly. He hates himself for getting his hopes up, once again. Fuck, hasn’t Lukas proven time and time again that he refuses to be “gay”?

 

“All right,” Philip tells Lukas, and he shakes his head. “I’m better than this,” he says as he looks Lukas in the eye. “I deserve better than you.”

 

And Philip sweeps out of the room with his head held high because fuck it, _fuck it_ , he’s better than this. He deserves so much more. He shouldn’t be the other woman. He shouldn’t be the dirty little secret that no one knows about.

 

It hurts like it’s fire searing through his veins instead of blood, and Philip curses when he feels liquid well up in his eyes again.

 

He wants- he wants to get drunk, and forget everything.

 

**21.**

When Philip makes eye contact with the guy- _the guy_ , the only guy that’s important in this whole turn of events because fuck, _fuck_ , he was the one holding a gun to Philip’s face and that makes the man’s face stay in Philip’s mind for a long time - his breath stutters to a stop in his throat.

 

Robert’s taught him a bit of how to survive on the streets, so he knows things. His eyes slide away to land on Tommy, like he’s just glancing at the passengers and after he counts to ten, he turns to look out the window.

 

He’s just a regular passenger, and he’s bored so he’s glancing out the window. That’s about it.

 

But he’s not stupid, so he takes out his phone and shoots a quick message to Robert. He tries to maneuver his phone to grab a pic of the guy - barely, and it’s a little blurry, but Robert sends back acknowledgement of some form.

 

At the very least, if Philip dies, Robert knows who killed him.

 

**22.**

Philip does not die because the man does not follow him, but the moment he gets to Lukas’ house to inform him of this drastic turn of events, all Lukas thinks about is his own safety. Which is rude, because he wasn’t the one with the gun to his face. In fact, if they’re thinking in terms of who’s safer, Lukas’ is the safer one. Because all the guy saw was Philip, albeit maybe Philip’s jaw, or something, but the guy didn’t see Lukas at all.

 

So Lukas’ huge explosion at how he’s in life threatening danger and Philip was stupid for running to his house, well, it doesn’t make Philip feel too happy. It sucks, because regardless of who’s in more danger - which is Philip, _clearly_ \- they’re in this shit together. This whole goddamn triple homicide revolves around them, and the weird guy who _committed_ the triple homicides.

 

And then Helen drives up to talk to Lukas, which starts another whole set of complications, and in the midst of playing poker with Gabe and Helen - which, poker? Gambling? Isn’t that, illegal, maybe? Because the last Philip’s checked, he’s still very much a minor. - he realises that the killer’s after Tommy.

 

Because of his fucking leather jacket.

 

“We should have told Helen, right from the start,” Philip says nervously, and if he’s nervous, Lukas is breaking down. Which he is, with his head in his hands and eyes already bloodshot, whole body shaking. And yeah, they’re both traumatised, maybe Lukas is a lot more traumatised than Philip is, but can Lukas just stay calm for a second? Can he just, be the voice of reason for a second? Philip is tired of having to stay calm and clear-headed all the time to deal with Lukas falling apart.

 

“No, no- you _promised_ ,” Lukas stresses, like a promise made in the middle of the woods at maybe midnight matters at all in the face of Tommy’s possible death. The thought makes Philip go cold, a stiffness settling in his shoulder blades and knifing through his gut. It makes him extremely uncomfortable, and guilt tastes like bile at the back of his throat.

 

“But Tommy-”

 

“You _promised_ ,” Lukas repeats, and he looks like he’s going to cry. Philip- he doesn’t understand, not when his mother was accepting and Robert’s Robert, so yeah, maybe Philip doesn’t get whatever crisis Lukas is going through, but Tommy may _die._

 

And yet, because Philip looks at Lukas and is weak, looks at Lukas and desperately thinks, _fuck_ , and he lets it go. “Fine,” he says, looking away. “Whatever. I won’t tell.”

 

Lukas heaves out a relieved sigh and Philip clenches his fists. He needs to get drunk. He can’t deal with this sober, not when he’s all jittery and Lukas is faring even worse.

 

“Do you know where your dad keeps the liquor?” Philip says, and Lukas, stupidly enough - for some reason, Philip actually expected Lukas to retain some semblance of sanity and put his foot down and say _no_ \- lights up and nods.

 

They get stupid drunk and end up in the police station. Not that bad of an outcome, when Helen’s his foster mom and she has to leave immediately because of some case. Lukas’ dad just picks him up and leaves, and all Gabe does is rub him on the back as Philip pukes his guts out.

 

The aftermath of drinking too much always tastes rank, but this time it tastes worse than usual, and it’s probably because of how Lukas’ drunken confession of “she wants to blow me” lingers in Philip’s mind.

 

It’s no question who “she” is, and Philip can’t believe he’s the other woman.

 

In no life, in no potential relationship that he’s ever considered, is he the _other woman_. He’s the side affair. He’s the one Rose will punch in the face if she ever finds out. Fuck. Rose can probably punch better than Lukas.

 

 _You’re asking for trouble_ , a voice says, and it sounds like Robert, so Philip swings his fist. Lightly, playfully, because he doesn’t actually want to hurt Robert.

  
“Shut up,” he slurs, and he hears Gabe sigh behind him.

 

**23.**

Tommy is-

 

Tommy is-

 

Tommy is dead.

 

And it’s all Philip’s fault.

 

**24.**

There’s not much to do. Or say. “I’m sorry” doesn’t cut it, not in a million years, not with what Philip’s _done_ by omitting information and just the thought of his jacket lying on his bed, the jacket that Tommy wore as he- as he, passed away, and Tommy’s camera on his bedstand-

 

Philip can taste bile at the back of his throat. He wants to puke. He didn’t even eat that much at breakfast but he wants to throw all of it up.

 

In school, he avoids looking at Lukas. He just goes to class, does whatever he’s supposed to, tries not to think about Tommy’s camera and how fucking _happy_ he looked with Tracy, about how Helen said that football was Tommy’s way into Notre Dame, and about how Tommy would never do drugs.

 

He doesn’t feel any different after school, no sudden epiphany or anything, but he feels griped by the urge to confront Lukas. To look him in the eye and blame him. Because come on, it’s Lukas’ fault. And Philip’s, yeah, but Lukas needs to know that this all happened because he didn’t want to tell anyone.

 

Keeping secrets never work out. It’s practically a law of nature. And with Helen investigating the case? Even better. The excuse of “they’re teenagers, they love privacy” that Gabe’s been unintentionally feeding Helen can only last so long.

 

The whole thing sucks, big time, and Philip doesn’t want to think about it at all. If he has his way, he wants to move back to New York immediately and forget the whole thing even happened. Which isn’t right, is it? Not when the killer’s still out there.

 

He wants to- run.

 

**25.**

Philip reaches school early because he can’t bear to stay in his room where Tommy’s camera stares at him, and when he sees Lukas hanging around the entrance, it strikes him that it’s probably a good time to approach Lukas.

 

So Philip makes sure no one’s looking and grabs Lukas by the wrist, dragging him into an empty classroom.

 

“Wha- Get off me!” Lukas says, pulling at Philip’s hand. “Come on, stop, what if someone sees-”

 

“No one saw anything,” Philip says, and lets go. Lukas rubs at his wrist, frowning at Philip. “I wanted to ask if you’re doing okay so far.”

 

Lukas glances at him. “Are you doing okay? You’re always in this weird calm place. I- I’ve talked about my problems a lot. Maybe you’d like to?”

 

“I’m good,” Philip replies, but he blinks a little harder and thinks about Tommy’s camera. “Actually, I’m not good. This whole thing is screwing me over. You said that it’s all your fault, but it’s not. It’s also my fault. And because of us, because of our stupid mistakes, Tommy’s-” Philip stops and swallows tightly. “Tommy’s not with us anymore.”

 

“I know,” Lukas says brokenly. “I can’t believe- I don’t know what to do. We’re just, just you and me. The two of us. And I’ve been thinking, maybe-” He breaks off and stares at the ground.

 

Philip feels a bit bereft. Like he’s left in charge of finishing Lukas’ sentences because Lukas can’t. “Maybe we should tell.”

 

Lukas looks at him, brows pushed together and he looks like he isn’t sure. But at least Lukas has been _considering_ it. That’s progress. Philip can work with this.

 

“You’ll be okay,” he says with conviction he doesn’t actually possess, and he grabs Lukas’ hands. He shakes them firmly and nods. “We’ll get through this.”

 

“Yeah,” Lukas confirms, setting his shoulders and tightening his grip. “Just- Tommy and Tracy’s funeral.”

 

“We’ll _get through this_ ,” Philip repeats. “And then we’ll talk some more after that, yeah?”

 

“I- yeah,” Lukas swallows. “Yes. We will. I can’t keep running away. But- later, please.”

 

Philip feels his body go loose in a way it hasn’t been for a long while. He hadn’t noticed how tense he was. He offers Lukas a brief smile and pushes the door open, stepping into the hallway that’s slowly filling up with students, all wearing something black to pay respects to Tommy and Tracy.

 

“Come on,” Philip whispers under his breath, and shakes his hands, tries to loosen up. “Stay strong for Tommy.”

 

He wasn’t strong once, and now Tommy’s gone, but here, right now, Philip will stand with his back straight to show that he’s so, so _sorry_.

 

**26.**

When Lukas asks him where he got the fake I.D. from, Philip laughs and shrugs it off, telling him it’s no big deal.

 

The story is that Philip knows Robert, who knows everyone, so Robert got the I.D.s for them in no time at all. Free of charge, even. And Robert actually knows the bouncer for this club, so the big guy checking their pretty realistic I.D.s is just going to let them pass no matter what.

 

Lukas takes one step in and chokes on his spit, wheeling around and pinning Philip with the most desperate gaze Philip’s ever seen.

 

“You brought me to a _gay_ club?” Lukas asks, and his voice’s higher than normal, even a little shrill. Philip thinks the club’s absolutely fantastic, so he nods and tries to pull Lukas in.

 

“Where did you think I was going to bring you?” Philip says, and he smiles encouragingly at Lukas. “You wanted to come somewhere where no one knew you, and you could forget about everything, right?”

 

“I thought we’d be going to a normal club!” Lukas exclaims, eyes darting around and flushing under the neon green lights whenever they landed on a pair of men, which is pretty much everyone in the club, so Lukas just kept getting redder. “I- I can’t!”

 

“What do you mean you can’t?” Philip gestures at the club, the pumping music, the flashing lights, the silhouettes of men pressing up against each other. “No one here, literally _no one_ , knows who you are, except for me! What are you worried about?”

 

Lukas hasn’t touched any alcohol at all but he already looks drunk, a little frightened and afraid but drunk off something and he shakes his head, backing away. “This is too much, I _can’t_.”

 

“Whatever,” Philip says, high off the vibes in the club. It makes him want to get some drinks and maybe spend the rest of the night here. But Lukas, strangely enough, really does look uncomfortable. “I’m staying.”

 

“I’m leaving,” Lukas replies and darts out of the club. And Lukas has no idea what New York’s like, so if he’s smart, he’ll be waiting outside until Philip goes to get him. To be honest, Philip’s already feeling a bit bad, like he’s being particularly mean to Lukas so he grabs one- two- alright, maybe three drinks, small ones, very low alcohol content and then exits the club, searching the road for Lukas.

 

Someone purrs at him and Philip grins back but doesn’t linger, rushing over to where Lukas is awkwardly standing on the sidewalk. “Sorry,” he says, and ducks his head a little. “Were you really uncomfortable in there?”

 

“I asked you to bring me somewhere where I could escape from all the fucked up stuff that’s happening and you take me to a gay club?” Lukas says incredulously. “How did you come up with _that_?”

 

“I mean, no one knows you. Look at your I.D. you’re Rick Anderton. Who’s Rick Anderton? There’s probably a hundred Rick Andertons in New York. No one knows who you are. You want to escape from that situation? That situation only exists because too many people know who you are,” Philip huffs. “It’s a small town, what do you expect? Now, New York, you’re free.”

 

“But-” Lukas sounds frustrated. “It’s weird and-”

 

“It’s not weird,” Philip tells him. “It’s just a gay club. You’re gay. Or bi. It’s a part of you. Maybe you can’t be _that guy_ in Tivoli, but in New York, you can.”

 

They’re probably taking up a lot of space on the sidewalk but Lukas makes a hesitant confession about how he would have told his mom about Philip and immediately, Philip doesn’t care at all about how they’re obstructing pedestrians from walking on the sidewalk. The sidewalk’s big enough, and there’s a road right there. Lots of place to walk. The words coming from Lukas’ mouth is way more important.

 

And then Lukas- no, _Rick Anderton_ kisses Philip right in the middle of the sidewalk, and Philip probably tastes like fruity cocktails but he kisses back as hard as he can, for all of twenty seconds before they break apart, hair wild and eyes brighter than normal.

 

“Wow,” Philip says, breathless, because that feels like the first time Lukas has actually initiated a kiss for the sake of it being a kiss. That time when Lukas crawled on top of Philip and kissed him as a prelude to some messing around - that didn’t happen, because Philip took a stand and said he wouldn’t be Lukas’ _bitch_ \- doesn’t count.

 

“Wow,” Lukas agrees, and under the New York streetlights, zero stars in the sky because of light pollution, he looks gorgeous. To the point that Philip darts in and presses another one to the corner of Lukas’ mouth, just to see the slightly shocked expression on Lukas’ face.

 

“Rick Anderton’s _awesome_ ,” Philip laughs, and Lukas is smiling, still holding Philip’s hand.

 

It feels like a dream, and Philip never wants this night to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review with your thoughts or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/) .


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